The Game
by TheCrystalShip
Summary: Dean discovers he's involved in a new hunt: one to save his brother. Will Dean reach Sam in time to save him, or will Dean's mistake be the greatest one he's ever made of his life. Find out in this Supernatural/Saw crossover!
1. Chapter 1

Sam awoke with a painful groan as he tried to sit up. However, Sam had come to find that when he did so, he only moved about two inches from his laying position. He shivered, and as he opened his eyes, he was engulfed into the darkness. The feeling of fear consumed his entire being as he could barely move his body and his heart began to race. He felt cold and clammy, surely if there was a light, his breath would be seen. A faint sound of ticking could be heard as he lay down. Something was not right; not right at all. He was trapped and it seemed that there was no possible way of figuring this out.

_C'mon Sam._ He thought to himself. _There has to be a way… there always is a way._ However, he could barely budge a muscle, except moving his arms only so much to check his surroundings; so escaping was out of the question.

Sam thought hard, trying to remember if there was any detail that would help give him clues as to how he got there in the first place.

--

Dean awoke to the alarm clock blaring in his right eardrum. He groaned as he kept his eyes closed, whilst his hand tried to search for the button to stop the alarm. He managed to find it, to his surprise, but didn't give a damn, until something seemed off. The minute he had hit that off button, a ticking sound was heard. Nothing to that of a bomb going off, but it still was pretty loud in the room.

Dean sat up immediately and looked to the clock to see that there was a countdown that appeared. 36:00:00 and it was counting down. That meant a day and a half. Dean eyes drifted to the bed where Sam was _supposed_ to be laying down on. He pulled the knife from under his pillow that he always had a habit of doing, and also leaned underneath the bed to grab his trusted gun.

He stood from the bed and cautiously walked towards the bathroom, which had a light shinning from underneath the crack of the door. "Sam?" Dean asked with a grungy, worn out voice, "You in there?" No reply was heard. Dean bit his lip and pushed the door wide open. He cursed under his breath. Nothing. No sign of Sam at all. Dean grunted and stormed out of the bathroom. He walked back to Sam's bed and kicked it hard out of frustration. Dean walked to the window, nearly ripped the curtain off of the rails, to find that his car was still out there.

Something was off about this whole situation. Sam would've left a note or had let him know that he was off to do something. But no. There was no sign of his brother. AT ALL. Dean was pissed off, but more concerned and worried than ever. He knew they both had got back to the motel room after their last hunt, and both had gone to sleep at the same time. Now Sam all of the sudden was gone?

Dean walked to Sam's bed, irritated, and pulled off the blanket in anger. As he did so, a small thud was heard. Dean brought his direction to the floor to find a small tape player which had a piece of paper taped on it saying 'play me'.

Dean crouched down and picked up the player with a raised brow. "What the hell is this supposed to mean Sammy?" He asked himself as he pushed down the play button and glanced at the clock that now read 35:58:32.

"_Hello Dean. I want to play a game."_ The voice said in a menacingly deep tone. _"Up until now you have spent your life hunting with your brother at your side. You have yet to realize that you have taken him for granted. Now, you, Dean, must go on a hunt of your own. A hunt to find your brother. Be careful though, you only have so much time to do so before Sam will die from your actions. Can you find him in time?" _

Dean swore aloud and threw the player across the room, hitting the wall and breaking it. He knocked off the lamp on the small corner table on the floor in frustration. So much was going through his mind and this game was seriously fucked up beyond belief.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean didn't know what to do. He was always the one to carry out the decisions, not the one to think things totally though. He needed Sam. He truly did. Sam was his weakness, as was Dean to Sam; one couldn't survive without the other one. The two had their fair share of arguments but it was always solved one way or another. Now, with Sam being held captive somewhere, it drove Dean crazy. How far would he go to save his brother? He'd have to find out and this was the surefire way to reveal Dean's emotions which would run rampant later. Dean glanced at the alarm-turned-timer and saw it read 35:50:21 with seconds ticking down. He was wasting time just sitting there doing nothing, when Sam was out there… somewhere, dying.

--

Sam's heart was racing, being stuck somewhere with no room to move at all. When he had first awoken in this place, there was a light ticking sound; now it was much louder, sounding like a grandfather clock's weight going back and forth. Maybe it was a crawl space of some sort. Something he could make his way out of. Sam slid his body, head moving first but was stopped quickly when he banged his head on the inside of what ever he was in. It definitely wasn't a quiet thud. Sam grit his teeth from the pain, surely knowing it would leave a bump of some sort.

He decided it wasn't a wise thing to move his head and he slid back to the original position he had been at, although it was hard to determine exactly where he lay at previously. He slid downwards but his feet were stopped by the end of it.

_Shit_. He thought to himself and then all of the sudden a feeling of panic struck his body. Sam was not one to be a claustrophobe but this would be the icing on the cake. He slid his hands along the side to find that it was at an angle. "FUCK!" He said aloud to himself. Sam was buried alive. Sam began banging on the sides and top of the coffin he seemed to be stuck in, hoping someone could hear him somehow.

This definitely was a sick and twisted joke that lost humor at the very start.

--

Dean jumped a bit to hear the thuds coming from somewhere. He figured it was rats seeing as how the motel was a dump anyways and everything was falling apart one way or another. Some places he was surprised were still up and running and managed to survive business. Those were usually the places Dean and Sam stayed over night at for hunts. It was cheapest and closest to where they planned on going to hunt.

Dean walked to the nightstand grabbed his keys and cell phone, and headed out the door to the Impala. If Sam was there to see how pissed off he was, he would've tried to find some way of cheering up him or calling him a jerk or saying some witty remark. But no. Dean was the one who needed to find Sam. No. Had to find Sam. And the time was ticking down until the last minute where he'd truly lose his brother. Not by a supernatural, son-of-a-bitch, but by some sick, twisted individual who seemed to get off by this situation. Once Dean would find out who the bastard was that did this to his brother, Dean would kill him most likely… or inflict some major ass whooping.

Any bystander or local who even thought about talking to Dean, would receive the evil, pissed off glare and a bird or two. Dean walked in a fast pace to the Impala which was only a short distance away and put his key in the door forcefully and unlocked it with such anger. He sat down, slid his feet in, slamming the door afterwards, and put his keys in the ignition. Dean needed to retrace his steps to figure out how to get to Sam. The bar would be the first location he'd drive at incredible speeds to. He didn't give a damn what anyone else thought of this. Just himself.

Dean pulled from the lot, the Impala screeching out as he rammed on the gas pedal. Cops would have to wait. Time was ticking by. Each second mattered because each one was a second lost of Sam's life.

--

35:48:59


	3. Chapter 3

35:48:59

Dean arrived at the small local bar The Blue Moon, at amazing speeds. Ten minutes. It took ten minutes to drive to the shithole, but Dean finally made it. What was with this town and broken down buildings. Surely things could change, but Dean didn't see that happening anytime soon since the people of it were southern, redneck hicks. Dean pulled into the lot and slammed on the breaks, which would've caused several bikers to turn their heads if the place had been crowded. Dean pulled the keys from the ignition and got out of the Impala, slamming the door behind him. He did not want to put up with anyone's shit. Not now, nor ever.

Dean walked in, his boots hitting the floor heavily as he entered the bar. The bar was pretty much empty except for a few customers who were playing pool. The glanced up at him with raised brows then took a swig of their drinks before going back to their game.

Dean walked immediately to the counter of the bar and the bartender moved closer. Dean reached over the counter and grabbed the man's collar. He had to be at least 6'3" and he was a very big, pudgy, bald man. He looked to be about forty-eight and had an unappealing appearance overall; one would not want to piss this guy off.

"What'd you do with my brother?" He asked in an angry tone

"I don't know what you're talking about man."

Dean spoke harshly to the man, not even caring about what would happen to his face any time soon. "Where the hell is my brother?!" The people that were playing pool now had their full attention on Dean and the bartender. They leaned back against the table, watching the two with smirks to their faces.

--

Sam kept pounding on the sides and tops of the coffin, holding false hopes that someone would save him some how. "Somebody!" He yelled, having a feeling no one would hear him, but he didn't care. "GODDAMMIT! Let me out of here!" Sam hit the side again another time, then felt a sudden sting as a huge, three inch long splinter lodged itself halfway into the side of his hand, piercing its way through the skin and part of the muscle. Sam left out a painful, agonizing groan and he cursed and moved his hand away from the sides. Sam closed his eyes tightly as his other hand felt where the splinter was. He grit his teeth as he used his hand to pull it out in one quick motion.

It was only a short time before there was a numb feeling in his hand. "God! What else can go wrong?" He asked himself aloud. Things were getting crazy, stuck inside a coffin, buried underground. He felt his pockets and discovered that he still had his cell phone on him. _Bingo. _He thought to himself as he pulled it out, only to find that there was no single. _Well today is just perfect._ He thought sarcastically to himself. "Wake up in a _fucking_ coffin. Hit my _fucking_ head. Get a _fucking_ piece of wood lodged in my _fucking_ hand then have to fucking pull it out. Now my cell phone doesn't have any signal?!" Sam was annoyed now. "SON OF A BITCH!" He yelled as he kicked the bottom of the box. Seems Dean rubbed off on Sam a lot more than he thought he had.

Now it was a waiting game for Sam. A wait to be rescued or… to die.

--

"You've got to be kidding me." Dean said as he held onto the bartender's shirt. He gave him a cold hard stare but then let go of the man's collar.

"That's better," said the bartender, "Now, I believe someone left this behind for you. Said something about a man like you would enter here." The man ducked down to grab a small tape player, the same type Dean had played earlier. "However, I don't think I want to give this to you. You come and show up in _my_ bar with some bullshit. But you know, I don't give a damn so here." He tossed Dean the tape player.

Dean caught the player and sat down on the barstool. This was just insane. He bit his lip as he pressed the play button, his emotions stirring as well. He glanced at the bartender who was cleaning glasses as if nothing happened.

_Dean Winchester, this is your first step to getting closer to your brother. The person in front of you is in desperate need of a lesson. To you, he seems like a typical barkeeper, but to truly see what I see, you need to look beyond his characteristics. But what you don't know is, this man has done far worse in his life. He is a hunter just like yourself, but he kills innocent for pleasure. What will you do Dean? Let him get away, or will you finally teach this man a lesson._

The tape stop and Dean shot an evil glare at the man. He immediately stood up and knocked the barstool to the ground. The man's hand slipped underneath the counter but Dean flipped the portion of the bar that could lift up and he was in the middle of the bar counter, the man seemed to have a panicked look on his face as if he had taken Dean for granted the entire time. By this time the two people who had played pool were long gone.

Dean stormed at the man and knocked him against the wall. "Who did you get the damn tape from?!" he asked in anger, knowing what he'd soon have to do. Dean reached to the back of his jeans, holding onto his gun..

"I told you before. Someone dropped it off." He said, his voice cracking a bit

"What was their name?!" Dean said as he hit the back of the man's head against the wall.

"I-I-I don't k-k-know man." He said as he closed his eyes tightly.

"You do fucking know!" Dean said as he hit the man's head against the wall again. "What. Is. His. Name?!" Dean hit the man's head another time.

"Jer--emy." he replied weakly

Dean glared at him at hit him once more again. He saw blood dripping from the man's nose, but acted like nothing was there. "Jeremy what?" Dean hit the man's head once more.

"J-j-Jeremy Stu-u-art." The man began coughing hard due to the trauma to his head from Dean banging it on the brick wall. Blood began pouring from his skull down the back of his neck.

"Where does he live?" Dean glared as he let stopped banging his head but still held onto the man's shirt. The man's head began hanging low and Dean shook the man enough to snap him out of it. "C'mon. Tell me where he lives. Now!"

The man's lip trembled as he couldn't find the answer to it. Things were all a blur to him and his whole body was numb from it all, especially his head. "I don't k-k-know, Dean….. I rea--lly d-d-don't." Dean let go of his collar and stepped back, watching the man swagger in place.

"Wrong answer." Dean said coldly as he pulled out the gun and fired one bullet, center of the man's forehead. Dean held no emotion to his face as the man slumped to the floor, dead.

--

35:01:41


	4. Chapter 4

35:01:41

Dean had left the bar, feeling no remorse at the moment for what he had just done to the bartender. However, seeing as his situation was crucial for both he and Sam, Dean would come to the realization of what he had done _after_ this was all over.

Everything was a mess. Dean knew it. He needed to find Sam. Before time was up.

--

Sam hated every moment of this. Just waiting as if he was a sitting duck or something. It sure was not fun at all. To cure his boredom, Sam pulled out his phone and began looking through everything, seeing if there would be some kind of clue as to how he got there. He flipped the phone to find that he had not noticed that he had voicemail on his phone. Great, how wonderful it would be to try to hear those.

Another idea struck Sam. Voice recordings. Maybe he would find something. Hopefully there could possibly be something. Anything at this point, even the bark of a dog would at least give Sam a little hope. Luckily that hopefulness was there when there was one recording. Sam played the message that was saved on his phone and brought the phone to his ear.

_Hello Sam. As of right now you're probably wondering how you got where to be where you are right now. You can thank your brother for that._ The male's voice said. _All your life you've been the underdog; the one who was the brains of the operation. But things have changed._ The voice paused for a moment. _Here, you find yourself in a coffin, buried alive while your brother is desperate to find you. With hours ticking by until your last breath, your brother may not reach you in time. How terrible that is for you. Let's a hope your brother is as smart as you think he is or else your time is up._

As Sam listened to this message, his heart was racing a mile a minute. This was insane. If Dean didn't make it in time to save him, he'd be dead and Dean would go on a rampage because of it. The thought of Dean being on his own got to Sam. His brother, who truly couldn't make it the last time when Sam died, had sold his soul to bring his brother back. So much had gone on in a year and Sam managed to bring Dean back.

--

Dean entered the impala in search to find this Jeremy Stuart. Once he found the sick bastard, he would get the answers he needed. If not. Well, then Jeremy would be in the same predicament as the bartender.

Dean drove down the highway as he made a call to Bobby, hoping maybe Bobby would know who Jeremy Stuart was, seeing as the bartender had a bad reputation and could be put in the same category is Gordon Walker.

He heard the dial tone and then several rings but no bobby. Dean would have to take a drive out to Bobby's seeing as he was only five miles away from where Dean was now. Dean cursed aloud and sped along the road, his next destination was Bobby's. Who knew what was to come for him. Dean swore if something happened to Bobby as well, blood would be shed.

Ten minutes passed and he finally made it to Bobby's home. Whatever was going to happen, Dean would be prepared just in case. He pulled into the lot and parked his car in front of the house, next to bobby's. Dean exited the Impala and knocked on Bobby's door. Dean waited for a minute or so, but there was no answer from Bobby. Dean twisted the knob of the front door slowly and pushed to see if it was unlocked and sure enough, it was.

Dean entered the hallway and called out to Bobby. "Bobby. You here?" He asked sternly. As he walked throughout the house, he held his gun out in front of him. Dean searched the whole upstairs and downstairs, still no sign of Bobby. Something was off about this whole situation. The house was unlocked, the car out in front, but no Bobby to be found. Dean decided to go to the basement to search it. He flipped the switch for the basement light and walked slowly down the stairs. "Bobby I swear you better be down here," he called out to him. Dean reached the bottom step and could hear water dripping. "Bobby?" he called out again as he continued his way in the basement. He could hear breathing in the basement, but couldn't figure out where from.

Dean reached another room of the basement that was completely dark, but a light chain was seen dangling that worked with the room. Dean grasped the chain and pulled downward. Suddenly a ticking sound went off. The lights shone and Bobby was unconscious, laying on a wooden table, shackles around his ankles and wrists. There was a TV in the corner of the room that had gone on automatically. Dean ran to Bobby's side and patted his cheek to wake him up. Bobby was startled and turned his head to the direction of the TV.

_Welcome to your next challenge, Dean. Here lies Bobby Singer. You know him pretty well. Well enough for him to face consequences for your actions. He has been the father figure for your brother and yourself when John wasn't around. The hunter is lying on a table, bound by his ankles and wrists. Every five seconds, that table's gear will turn, stretching Bobby until the breaking point. There are four keys, one for each lock. They are found embedded in each hand and wrist. As of right now you only have a thirty seconds left to unlock Bobby before he is all stretched out.__Will you let him die or will you save him?_

Dean cursed aloud as he pulled out a jackknife. He looked at Bobby's hands to see there was writing on his hands where he'd have to cut at. The next location where he'd have to go to. "Dammit Dean, just do it." Bobby said harshly to Dean. Dean bit his lip as he went to start cutting at Bobby's hands. He couldn't believe he was doing this to Bobby. Dean closed his eyes tightly for a moment, his heart racing as he cut into the palm, blood oozing out of the wound. Dean found the Key and quickly unlocked the shackle of his left hand. The same was done to the right, leaving Bobby in terrible pain after his shoulder bones had started cracking as well as his ankles.

Dean raced to Bobby's bare feet, figuring that he had about fifteen seconds left. Dean's hands trembled as he began to cut at the soles of his feet. Bobby groaned from it all and closed his eyes tightly. "Hurry up!" He yelled. Dean replied back. "Shut up, god dammit. One more key left!" Dean growled as he cut into the flesh of the left foot. He had found the key but then realized there was about three seconds left. Dean rushed to the keyhole and tried turning the key but it didn't unlock fully. "Fuck!" Dean yelled. He grabbed the other key, trying to see if it'd work.

Dean shut his eyes tightly as he unlocked it, not knowing if it worked. The last click from the gear was heard and he heard nothing from Bobby. Dean opened his eyes slowly to see that it was unlocked. A huge smile hit Dean's face and he cheered. Bobby let out a sigh of relief. "That was hell…" He said weakly as he grit his teeth from the wounds on his hands and feet.

Dean looked to Bobby. "Let's patch you up quickly. I'll explain everything in a short summary." Dean had helped Bobby upstairs and filled him in with what all had been going on and after awhile, he could see how pissed off Bobby was of it all.

--

34:35:50


End file.
